


Ain't No Grave

by Ana_Kerie



Category: Death Stranding (Video Games)
Genre: Cliff watches over his family., Lou has a rebellious streak, M/M, Original Character(s), Sam is goofy when he's in love . So is Deadman., Spoilers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23113042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ana_Kerie/pseuds/Ana_Kerie
Summary: Sam and Deadman, in a newly reborn America, living their lives and raising a family.
Relationships: Sam Porter Bridges/Deadman
Comments: 6
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Been working on this for a while now, trying to get it right. I love Deadman and in my head, this is what happened after the game ended. Each chapter will be a different POV. Deadman and Sam are raising not only Lou, but a little boy named Ford, and later chapters will explain how they came to adopt him. The title is from Johnny Cash's "Ain't No Grave." which just seems really fitting for Sam. Also, lots of swearing in this fic because, well, Sam.
> 
> Well, meet me mother and father, meet me down the river road  
> And momma you know that I'll be there when I check in my load  
> Ain't no grave can hold my body down  
> There ain't no grave can hold my body down

Chapter 1

Sam’s POV:

Bottom line is, they don’t know him and I do. The people who look at us sideways. The people who flat out ask me about things that are none of their fucking business. The people who have the balls to pull me aside and ask why I’m with him. You think people ain’t that rude? Think again. 

I sure as hell ain’t any great catch. He loves me anyway. And it’s none of that fairytale crap about “completing’ each other or “soul mates” or whatever you want to call it. There aren’t going to be songs about our great romance, because no one writes songs about the shit that really matters. 

Like he has this way of making coffee…I mean I’d had coffee a few times in my life before I met him, but it wasn’t ever anything I went out of my way to find. But when he makes it, he has these spices and stuff he throws in, shit I’ve never heard of like cardamom. And even when I make it the exact same way, it never tastes the same. It’s never quite as good as when he makes it. He says he can’t taste any difference, but I can. So he makes in the morning, and I wake up and I can smell it brewing, and it’s so fucking simple and mundane and domestic that I want to freeze time and keep it just like that forever.

He sings too. I mean, no one is going to be moved to fucking tears listening to him sing, but he can sing and he likes to. And he has this big collection of old music that he likes to sing along to when he works. And sometimes I’ll just sit back and drink my coffee and listen to him. He won’t do it in front of anyone but us. Or dance around like he does. And who would expect him to? Because they don’t know him. 

And I do. 

The kids call him “Dapa”. It was Lou who came up with it. We were going for “Papa” since I was gonna be Daddy. But she heard me calling him “Deadman” and so she just mushed the two together and so he was Dapa from that point on. And then when Ford started talking, there was no reason to change it.

Ford…I’ll talk about him more later. How he came into our lives. We weren’t planning on any more kids. We had Lou. More than most people had. But then there was this little boy, and we weren’t even sure he was going to make it…and by the time we were sure, couldn’t have pried him away from us. He was the last piece of our strand. He made us whole. But it’s a long story, and not his turn yet. Back to the talking business.

The woman who originally taught Deadman how to speak wasn’t from the UCA. She was originally from outside the country, to the south. So it made sense for Deadman to pick up her accent. But what was fucking awesome was that Lou and Ford then picked it up from their Dapa when they started speaking. Sort of, anyway. They pronounce a lot of words like he does, and they roll their Rs, but they also have a twang too. I couldn’t figure that one out at first until Deadman laughed and said “Have you ever stopped to listen to yourself, Sam?” No one ever hears their own accent, I guess. So when they talk, you can hear us both in their voices. And it’s funny right up until you get a call from your daughter’s nursery school that she spilled her juice and started swearing up and down a blue streak. Then we had to have a long talk about why Daddy is allowed to say certain words that Lou isn’t. 

But I dare anyone to say she’s not really mine. Even before she took her first breath, and without a fucking doubt from that moment on.  
That afternoon, when I left the incinerator, I wanted to just run and disappear with my little girl. Head off into the wild where no one would ever see us again. Raise her in cave. Or take over Higg’s shelter after de-crazying the place. Would have been a roof over our heads. The last thing I wanted to do was to take the kid back to Capital Knot with me. The last thing I wanted to do was go back myself. 

But see, I had to. Because it wasn’t just about me and what I wanted. I was a father now. Lou needed food, and clothing, and she needed to feel safe. She needed medicine if she got sick. And she needed other people. I’d been alone for so long, for so many years, that I was used to it. But I looked down at her, all little and scrawny and trusting, and I didn’t want her to get used to it. I wanted her to form her own strands, her own connections. I wanted her to have friends and sleep-overs. I wanted her to have a first crush on someone, someday. I wanted her to have a fucking awesome life and that wasn’t something I could give her all by myself.  
So we went back. It was late in the evening by the time we reached the city, and then I had trouble because I’d, well, burned the cuffs. Luckily they recognized me and let me in, after doing a double-take at the kid on my shoulder, and I ended up outside the door of Deadman’s apartment. 

“Tugoa?” Lou asked me.

“Tugoa.” I responded, and she gave me that toothless smile that always fucked with my heart. I guess she was asking where we were and what we were doing here as I pushed the buzzer repeatedly. On the other side of the door I could hear Deadman muttering “I’m coming! I’m coming. Who is it?”

“Lone Wolf and Cub. Open up.”

He yanked the door open and for a moment he just stared at us. At me, and at Lou, and she gave him that same drooly grin and then a thumb’s up. And he lost it. Totally lost it. Started crying and grabbed us and pulled us both inside and we were all standing there in this really awkward hug. And up to that point? Best hug of my life. I put Lou into his arms and she was giggling and cooing at him and babbling, and I knew, somehow, it was all going to be okay.

“I…did not think I’d ever see either one of you again…” He whispered, kissing the top of her head. 

His apartment wasn’t at all what I was expecting. Figured it would be all kind of grey and white and bland. But it wasn’t. There was this big brown fake-leather sofa and posters on the walls of different old movies and shit, and a lot of green ferny plants. Thick light blue carpet. It was nice. Everything growing up with Bridget was always all pretty and neat and clean lines and nothing was ever allowed to just look like it was someone’s home instead of just a place to live. 

This? This was a home. This felt legit. As I was taking it in, Deadman was still making little happy noises at Lou and she was making them right back at him, kicking and waving her hands. And I was not going to start crying. I refused to start crying.

“So yeah, she’s alive. But damned if I know anything about keeping her that way.” I shrugged. “I can’t do it alone. Give her what she needs, not just on my lonesome. And she deserves a hell of a lot better than a bare-bones life on the run.”

And he just kind of took over for a while. The printer whirled and before I knew it Lou was in a diaper and wearing this little white onesie with ugly pink flowers on it. And she was chugging down formula from a bottle, her first meal, and she was so small that she didn’t even seem real. Except…she was. She was real and alive and fucking perfect. Except for the onesie. Deadman and I were going to have to talk about how to dress her right. I wondered if they made onesies out of denim. 

“We should take her down to my lab so I can do a physical. I’m sure she’s fine.” He must have seen the worried look on my face at that. “But this way we can record her weight and her vitals. She seems to be breathing without issue, which is the most important thing. I’ll also need to take some blood samples.”

Lou blew him a raspberry around the nipple of her bottle, and I choked when her little hand raised and she gave him something that was definitely not a thumb’s up this time.

“Sam!”

“I didn’t teach her that! She came pre-loaded with it! Probably learned it from Igor.” I had to defend myself. “No flipping the bird at Deadman, Lou. We need him.” Her eyes met his again and she grinned and spit out the nipple. “Ah well, the fact that she’s alive to make rude gestures? At this point she can do whatever she likes!” 

She weighed in at 3lbs and 6oz. 11 inches long. O positive blood. She could see and hear just fine. And there was nothing wrong with her lungs, considering how she screamed about the heel-stick for her blood test. Didn’t blame her for that one. We both got the bird for that. Didn’t know she could do two hands at the same time. I was impressed. 

“You…” Deadman was cuddling her against his chest after she stopped fussing. “get a clean bill of health, little one. Nothing for you to do but grow big and strong. We’ll take care of the rest. The world is brand new, _mi dulcita_. So much to learn and rediscover. So many things I can’t wait to teach you…”

That’s where John found us as few minutes later, our heads together as we made idiots out of ourselves over our baby girl. 

“Sam…” I turned around, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Deadman pull Lou closer to him protectively. “You’re back…I heard you were, and that you had a baby, but I never imagined…how is this possible?” He was staring at Lou and I felt my fists clench.

“I dunno. It just is. Defied your stupid-ass order, took her out, here she is.” I moved forward. “I’m keeping her. Not like she was any use as a BB anymore. So unlike the rest of them, she gets to be a kid now. My kid.”

“There was an old American law.” Deadman chimed in. “Once something is thrown away, the original owner gives up all rights to it. It was challenged and upheld in court many times. Bridges ordered the baby disposed of. I believe Sam was within his rights to claim her for himself.”

John started to speak and I interrupted him. I wasn’t angry. I just needed him to understand. “He showed me everything.”

“He?”

“Clifford Unger. My father. He showed me everything that happened that day. Last time I hooked into Lou’s pod. He was there. He showed me the truth.”

“Clifford…your father…of course…” I heard Deadman breathe. “That’s why he was so drawn to you…”

“It wasn’t your fault, John.” I felt my voice catch. “He showed me…you didn’t kill him…kill me. Bridget did. You tried to help as best you could. And you did. Because of you he was able to get me out. Not himself, and not like he wanted to, but I didn’t spend my whole life in a damn pod.” I made myself go forward and put my hand on his shoulder, and he reached up and took it, and it didn’t hurt. “If you’d tried to do more, they’d have shot you too. Nothing would have changed.”

“Oh Sam, if I could find some way…some way to give him back to you…”

“You sorta can. At least, you can tell me about him. I don’t know a whole lot. Just that he loved me. And he gave his life to try and protect me and I am his son. I won’t do one bit less to protect my little girl.”

“Sam, after everything you’ve done for this country, everything you’ve been through…” He smiled and it felt genuine. “I think we can spare one retired Bridge Baby. I’ll push the adoption paperwork through myself. She’ll be legally yours before you know it.”

“Did you hear that, Lou?” Deadman held her up. “You’re going to have a family! A real family! Isn’t that wonderful?”

I watched them for a moment, and then went to stand by Deadman’s side. “Any chance you could have that drawn up as a two-parent adoption?”

“Sam…” Deadman seemed to run out of words for a moment, a rare thing for him. “Are you saying…”

“Told you.” I sounded gruffer than I intended. “I can’t do this alone. You love her as much as I do. You told me you never had a family. Well, here we are. If…if you want us.” 

“Yes. Oh yes…I would be so honored to be her father too…”

Maybe John through we were nuts. I don’t know. But he kept his word and a few days later we were signing our names on a birth certificate, and hers too. Louise of course as her first name. Neither of us had any reason to change that and she already responded to Lou. I let Deadman choose her middle name and he went with Francesca. I found out later that was the name of his care-giver, the woman he owed his accent to. And I already knew what last name I wanted her to have because it was the name I planned on using myself. It was mine, snatched away from me by Bridget Strand, and I was finally taking it back and passing it on.

Louise Francesca Unger, daughter of Sam Unger and Deadman. Signed and sealed and all perfectly legal. We even had a little celebration afterward. Lockne and Fragile and John came in person: Heartman by chiralgram. There were presents for her, and a bunch of baby-care stuff for us to use, and the guest of honor capped off the night by spitting up all over Mr. President and clocking him on the head with a stuffed bunny. 

Deadman looked around at everyone and he started just sobbing, and I knew that it was going to happen.

See, I know him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Deadman's POV in the early days of he, Sam, and Lou living together as a family. No smut yet. There will be smut in later chapters.

Chapter 2:

Deadman POV:

The most logical thing for us to do was to expand my apartment and add space for Sam and Lou to move in. Not that I minded this: I was ecstatic. I may have also gone a little overboard decorating Lou’s nursery but for that I refuse to apologize. Our child was thrilled with the soft toys and bright colors, and she seemed to understand immediately that this space belonged to her. I wondered how she would redecorate as she aged and I pictured her as a teenager, angry about something and stomping in to sulk.

I wanted every single one of those moments. All the giggles and future tantrums. I had never in my wildest dreams imagine I’d have an opportunity to be a father and I was taking full advantage of it.

While Lou settled right in, it took a while for Sam to feel comfortable. For one thing, he wasn’t used to having anywhere that he considered a home. For another, because it had been my home first, he seemed to sometimes feel like he was intruding. As if he had to ask my permission to use certain things or touch or rearrange anything.

He was also by his very nature a solitary man, not used to being in the company of others for any great length of time. I tried to respect his need to be alone, times when even we were simply too much for him to deal with. He took small, local delivery requests during those times, and he was always back before sundown. It was good for him, I believe.

The nightmares he experienced, not so much.

Sam hadn’t wanted to speak to me about them, but it was hard to keep such a secret when I could hear him crying out in the middle of the night, or when I would go into his room to see him curled in a ball and shaking, tears on his cheeks. I soon realized there was nothing I could say to ease his terror. But what I could do was lay down next to him and pull him close and just hold him until he was grounded once more. He allowed it. We never talked during those times. Just laid there in the dark together until one of us had to get up to attend to Lou.

Eventually after many nights of this, he told me that he did not believe these dreams were related to his Dooms. They were simply dreams about his time alone on the Beach, wandering about in a colorless world, believing it to be his eternity. He said in the dreams he would find himself back there, and this world…Lou, and myself, and his life…that that was the fantasy. And sometimes he would see us, just ahead of him in the sand, but no matter how fast he ran he could never catch up to us.

“I lost it all. Before.” He would mutter. Then usually “Sorry about all this crap.”

I was sorry that he hurt so badly on those nights, but I was not sorry that I could, in some small way, bring him comfort. Remind him that Lou and I weren’t going anywhere. Then I thought that perhaps there was more I could do.

It was just a small thing, really. A little research into the past, and a little time with the printer. His confusion when I proudly showed it to him was humorous. A large blue comforter draped over his bed, as inoffensive as I could make it. (I had considered copying the pattern with the pink flowers, but the goal was for him to use this, not set it on fire.)

“A blanket.”

“A very heavy blanket. Specially made. They were quite popular before the Stranding. Will it help you? I don’t know. But they’re supposed to help you feel more secure when you sleep. You’ve nothing to lose by trying it out, yes?”

Sam started using the blanket, more to indulge me than anything else. It did not, of course, completely solve his anxieties. But it did lessen them. The nightmares became less frequent and the circles under his eyes less pronounced. He seemed calmer over all, happier, and I was relieved.

Lou grew rapidly, filling out and gaining weight. She was naturally very different from other babies. She was normally sweet and happy, but her mental progress far outstripped what her tiny body could do, and it frustrated her at times.

I can’t even begin to put into words how much I loved her. Tending to her needs, changing her or giving her a bottle at night, it never felt like a chore. Her eyes stayed green-hazel, like fresh shoots of grass sticking up through late winter mud. Her hair started coming in light brown and so soft it didn’t seem possible. Sam would often meet me at my lab at the end of the day, Lou in a sling on his chest, and we would head home together.

And in spite of all of this, Sam and I were dancing around another issue, present but unspoken. We were the best of friends. We were Lou’s parents. But what else we were, or could be, to each other had not been addressed. Something was there, but our fear held us back. The smaller fear “What if he rejects me?” and the larger fear “What if he does not?”

A little over three months went by from that night Sam and Lou showed up at my apartment door. Life was good. Brilliant. But no life comes without difficulty, and even small ones can cause you to feel completely helpless.  


Anyone who has ever nursed a sick baby understands this.  


To be clear, Lou was not on the door of death. She had a cold, and an ear infection. She was given medication for these things, fluids to keep her hydrated, extra attention to keep her spirits up. Other than that, only time could cure what ailed her. As mentally advanced as she was for her age, she was still a baby. A baby frustrated that her parents were not able to solve her problems and make everything in her world perfect again. Perhaps in her mind, if Sam could save the world, he could at the very least make her ear stop hurting.  


We were exhausted, all three of us, and Sam and I felt guilty that we couldn’t do more to ease her misery. We rocked her and sang to her, and finally she dozed off in Sam’s arms, her head on a shirt covered in dried mucus. I laid back on the sofa with a sigh, and a moment later Sam was lying down as well, his back against my chest as Lou slept against his.  


Maybe it was because we were so tired it was because of this the final barrier between us could finally be removed. He was warm and solid and I knew that I never wanted to let him go.  


“This is nice.” He broke the silence. “I…like this. Like it better like this, when you’re not trying to calm me down from some stupid bad dream.”  


“I like it too.” I kept my voice low to keep from waking Lou. “Feels right, yes?”  


“Yeah. Feels right. Before…before Lou woke up in my arms at the incinerator nothing had felt right for a long time. But since we moved in here…I’m finally home. Not just the place…you make me feel like I’m home.”  


“I’m glad. When I can make you smile…when I can make her smile…all I ever want to do is make you happy.”  


“I’ll probably be shit at this.” He whispered. “Only person I’ve ever…Lucy. It was good. I loved her. I loved her so fucking much…but one person doesn’t exactly make for a lot of experience.”  


“You’re one up on me, Sam.” I admitted. “Unless fantasies count.”  


“Fantasies, huh?” He tilted his head. “Anyone I know.”  


I must have blushed at that and he grinned. “Cause I may have had a few of my own. Wouldn’t mind exploring them once Lou’s better and I ain’t covered in baby snot.”  


I could not help myself. My heart was overflowing. Love for him. Love for our child. “Perhaps…we need a shower.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's POV , reflecting on the first year with his new family, the family he lost, and his transition from friends to lovers with Deadman. Some descriptions of smut. Nothing ya'll can't handle.

Chapter 3

Sam’s POV:

Sometimes, I’d be holding Lou and I’d feel a kind of prickle on the back of my neck. And she’d start staring at something I couldn’t see, and she’d smile and giggle. And if I took a really deep breath, I swear I could smell cigarette smoke.

I guess I wanted the best of both worlds for my Dad. The thought of him still being stuck in that endless war shit made me sick, and I hoped he’d moved on to whatever came next. That my Mom was there too and they were together again. But I still liked the idea that he could see us sometimes, check up on us, that he wasn’t entirely gone. All the love I hadn’t been allowed to give him in life was his in death.

John got me the files on my parents, and I read them over and over until I’d memorized every detail I could. I learned where they were born, where they went to school, the names of my grandparents. Aunts and uncles who died. That stung. When I was born, my father had two living brothers and my Mom had a sister. I had fucking family that could have taken me in, raised me. I looked at their pictures and I saw my own face staring back at me from strangers. Maybe I would have felt differently if my folks had put me up for adoption. But I’d been fucking kidnapped, and now they’d always be just strangers.

And it got me thinking about Lou, and wondering if she’d always have the same questions. So Deadman and I dug deep into her files as well. Someday she’d want to know where she came from, and I wanted to be able to tell her. If she had other family out there, I wanted her to know them. There was some fear in that, that they might want to take her from us, but we weren’t about to let that happen. We just wanted her to have what neither of us did. 

Turns out her folks were preppers, living not too far from Capitol Knot. I’d probably made deliveries to them more than once. Gretchen and Michael. They were young, early 20s. And they got their hands on some strong shit one day, some kind of funky mushrooms, and they ate them. I don’t know if they were just hungry or trying to get high on purpose or whatever, but anyway Michael died and Gretchen came close. CDT came for Michael’s body and found Gretchen still clinging so they took her back to Capitol. Nothing they could do to wake her up again. And if I’m being honest, once they found out she was pregnant they probably didn’t try all that hard. Stillmothers didn’t grow on trees. Four months later they took Lou out. Gretchen was still there, still sleeping. 

Deadman and I were going to wait until Lou asked, and then if she wanted, we were going to take her there. Not that Gretchen would have been able to see her or hear her, but it was Lou’s right to know about her. To know what little we knew about her father. The last thing I wanted her to feel was that her birthright, what little she had, had been yanked out from under her. 

Lou, and Deadman, and I were orphans of fate, or some kind of poetic crap like that. But we’d found each other and that was pretty fucking awesome.

The fucking was pretty awesome too, once we grew some stones and got around to it. 

It was different with him than it had been with Lucy, and not just for the obvious reasons. 

Lucy was quiet during sex, and so was I, so there was almost something…I dunno…like a ritual about it. It was good. It was better than good. I loved our sex life. I loved being able to touch someone and not feel like I wanted to shit myself in terror. 

Deadman was a talker. In and out of bed. Always describing how something felt or asking me how something felt or asking what I wanted him to do next. It was loud, and it was messy, and sometimes we just found ourselves laughing like maniacs in the middle of it because it was fun. 

And it didn’t matter how we went about it. There weren’t any set rules we had to follow. There were nights when I’d ride him until I collapsed or take him from behind or we’d go off down each other’s throats. And there were plenty of times I found myself walking a little funny the next day because he was a big guy in pretty much every way. Not a complaint. 

Just like the singing business, there was a whole other side of him that he only revealed when we were home and safe from the prying eyes of the world. Horny SOB, and I sometimes snickered to myself when I saw him at work looking all proper and professional. Because I was the only one who knew that just a few hours before he’d been bare as a BB and begging me to give it to him hard. Bridges had their version of Deadman.

I had my mine. And sometimes, he was a real nut.

Like, he came up with this idea of naming my handprints. So I named his scars. Drew a zipper on his head once while he was asleep. Next morning I woke up to find all these smiley faces in the middle of the hands. I left them for a while because Lou got a giggle out of them.

One night stands out, when Lou was a little over a year old. Just one of those good, simple memories. I’d been out on a day run and it was getting dark and I was eager to get back home again. More and more people were moving above ground now that it was safe, but our apartment was still down below and I liked it like that. It felt secluded and private and it was ours. It felt like mine now too, not just his.

Just as the world I’d grown up in was nothing like the world Cliff had grown up in, the world Louise would know was nothing like mine. We took her outside all the time, let her run in the grass and get muddy and dirty. Before I went inside that night I took a deep breath of good, clean air, and I was grateful for all of it. Even if it meant that sometimes I had to be fishing stuff with way too many legs out of Lou’s mouth. 

Deadman liked to cook. I wasn’t half bad at it, but he was a lot better and he enjoyed it more. He said it was the scientist in him, that cooking and science were basically the same thing. I knew jack shit about science. I just knew that he could throw together a helluva good meal. I walked in to smell something all herby and tomato-based simmering, and garlic in the air, and Lou sitting in her high chair babbling along as Deadman sang:

“The only boy who could ever reach me, was the son of a preacher man.”

I shook my head. “My father was probably a lot of things in his life, but I’m damn sure Cliff wasn’t a preacher man.” I came up behind and wrapped my arms around him. He always felt so good to hold. He smelled like spice and cologne and baby powder. It was a smell I thought of as just “mine”. 

“Daddy!” Lou waved at me from her chair. “Hi, Daddy!” She pointed at the stove. “Eat now?” I swear that girl had a bottomless pit for a stomach. She liked her Dapa’s cooking as much as I did.

Deadman grinned at me over his shoulder. “Get cleaned up. Dinner will be ready soon. And better the son of a preacher man than me.” He paused for effect. “The son of petri-dish.”

I lost it. Completely cracked up and he joined in, and so did Lou, although she really didn’t get the joke. 

“The only man who could ever teach me, was the son of a petri-dish.” I sang back and we were roaring again.

And then my neck prickled and Lou’s eyes got big in delight, and over the oregano I could smell a bit of cigarette smoke. Maybe my father hadn’t been a preacher, but I knew that wherever he was, we had his blessing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's POV. Cliff has one last gift for his son. Kids are little sponges. Sam really needs to work on his potty mouth. Louise dreams big.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish translations:
> 
> Marido: Husband  
> Mi dulcita: Term of endearment. Literally "My little sweet."  
> Te amo aunque: I love you though.  
> Estoy lleno de sorpresas: I'm full of surprises

**Chapter 4**

Sam’s POV **:**

Before I could believe it, two years had gone by since that day at the incinerator. Two years since the Stranding had ended, and I’d, finally, come home.

The world was getting better. Not perfect, but hell, was it ever? There were still folks who refused to leave their shelters because if things went to shit once, it could happen again. But there were more roads now, more cars, more people out and about. We still hadn’t managed to contact anyone overseas. Didn’t know if anyone still was overseas. But we were trading with Canada and Mexico and there was talk of just making all of North and South America just one big country and being done with it.

Kumbaya, right? I’d believe it when I saw it. People were still the same terrified little bitches they’d always been, and once things really settled down I was certain we’d all go back to side-eying each other and separating ourselves into teams of “us” and “them”. 

But it was better. And personally, things were good. One morning I woke up to find a ring in my coffee cup. Damn near choked on it before I realized what it was. I said yes. Of course I said yes. I’d been meaning to ask Deadman and he just beat me to it. We had a little wedding: nothing big or fancy, but I will say we had the cutest damn flower girl ever.

If you’re wondering about the Bridge Babies, it was a good news/bad news kind of deal with the poor kids. Good news was Bridges stopped making them: no more BTs so there wasn’t a need for them. Bad news is that the 70% chance of failure was still there. Most of them didn’t make it. We tried…we tried so hard. But it was just how it was. And I say most of them, but some of them were tough little shits just like Lou, and they pulled through.

One of them was Dellen. Handlers had first choice in taking the kids in, but Dellen’s wasn’t interested in being a Mom. Knew someone who was though, or someones…still makes me brain hurt. Anyway, Lockne and Mama ended up adopting him. After everything they’d been through it seemed only right to make them an offer. Couldn’t ever replace the one they lost (I knew that better than anyone) but didn’t mean they couldn’t love it every bit as much.

Seeing Lockne at our wedding, knowing Mama was there too, watching Lockne feeding Dellen little bits of cake…it felt good. Couldn’t save them all. Couldn’t save most of them. But Lou…Lou had a life. Dellen was short and chubby and like to cuddle everybody. Knowing I’d been able to do that made me feel that my time here was worth something. Something a lot bigger than I was. Can you understand that? Ending or postponing or whatever the Stranding didn’t feel nearly as good as watching Lou and Dellen chattering at each other and swapping toys.

Anyway, Lou was suddenly two going on thirty. She liked to talk, and she could sass like no one’s business, and she wanted an explanation for everything. Just telling her something was wasn’t enough for her: she wanted to know all the details. Deadman loved it. Said she was going to become a scientist when she grew up.

“She’s going to be a Porter. Ain’t that right, Lou?” I asked, tugging on one of her short pigtails.

“Nope.” She shook her head. “No scientist. No Porter.”

“Okay, _mi dulcita_ , what do you want to be?” Deadman picked her up and gave her a hug.

“President. Like Uncle John.” It was said all casual-like, and like we should have already known.

I probably should have known. My kid was ambitious, if nothing else. If she wanted to be President she was gonna be president, and help anyone who stood in her way.

John’s days were numbered.

It was a Wednesday when Ford happened. Funny that I remember that because I’d never paid any attention to days of the week much before the Stranding ended.

I’d left after breakfast to run some materials to the Wind Farm. Without having to work my way through a bunch of BTs it was a shit-ton easier know than it had once been, and I actually enjoyed the area. It was pretty. Deadman and I had even brought Lou up here for a picnic a few times. I had suggested camping out, and Lou was all for it, but my husband acted like I’d suggested we chop off his head and mail it to Edge Knot.

_“Come on, babe, where’s your sense of adventure?” I’d asked._

_“I can only assume that they forgot to install one. And I am perfectly happy remaining adventure-free the rest of my life, thank you very much.”_

_“Te amo aunque.” I moved up against him and Lou crawled into my lap._

_“You’ve been practicing. I didn’t teach you that one.” Deadman sounded a little choked up._

_“Soy lleno de sorpresos.”_

Getting off track again. That was a good day.

I dropped off the supplies and I was headed back home. I had the windows down and the music drive turned up. For shorter trips, I sometimes took Lou along with me. She loved it, loved singing along to the music, loved getting out of the city for a while. Sometimes she’d throw me when she’d point at something from her BB days and tell me that she remembered it. “We slept there, Daddy!” “Daddy! You got wet there!” A place where I’d fallen in the water. Of course she’d remember something like that. Or my favorite “You peed on that mushroom!”

I ended up being glad she wasn’t with me that Wednesday.

I wasn’t too far from home, about ten minutes or so, and I didn’t have any plans except dinner, playing with my kid, and later getting fucked to kingdom come by my big guy. Normal stuff in the life of Sam Unger, sometime Porter, full-time Daddy, and devoted _marido_. Not in a million years the life I ever expected to have, but it was a damn good one.

That’s when I heard it. My father’s voice, as loud and clear as anything I’ve ever heard in my life. 

GET OUT OF THE CAR, SAM.

Another place, another time, I would have been spooked. But after all the fucked-up shit I’d seen in my life? Won’t say I wasn’t surprised. Also won’t say that for a moment I wondered if I was losing my mind. But I smelled that bit of smoke, and I put the truck in park and got out. I could be an obedient son.

To the right parent, anyway.

I got out of the car. It was overcast that day and warm but not hot. The breeze felt good on my arms and in my hair, but I was pretty sure Cliff just didn’t think I needed a pit-stop.

LISTEN

I listened. And I heard it. Just barely, over the wind, over my own breathing. From a ravine a few yards away. A thin wail, the kind of crying that’s been going on for a long time and is about to fade out because whomever is crying is just like “Fuck it. Let me die already.”

I ran over to the ravine and looked down, and there was a truck at the bottom, turned sideways and up a bit on the crushed front end of it. Mule truck, and I was instantly on alert. They usually weren’t smart enough to set traps but…

SAVE HIM

That was enough for me. I worked my way down the ravine ledge as fast as I could and managed to climb on top of the truck. All of the windows were busted out, and I could smell death. No one knew that smell was well as I did.

One glance told me it was too late for most of them. A man behind the wheel, and a woman in the passenger seat, and Oh God, a little girl between them, bigger than Lou. Five, maybe? It was hard to tell. They’d been dead for a while. A few years ago they would have already gone necro. I figured they’d died right away when their truck went off the ravine. But there wasn’t time to get them out or do anything about burying them because the reason I’d been brought here was lying on the floor of the cab.

Death hadn’t claimed him yet.

I had to bend nearly in half to grab him by the front of his little blue jumpsuit and yank him up and out of the broken truck window. He was about six months old, covered in blood and his own filth and I wasn’t any doctor but I could tell right away that he was in bad shape. His lips were all cracked and dry and his crying was tapering off and his leg was at a funny angle. How he’d managed to stay alive at all, let alone cry, I didn’t know. I just knew that if I didn’t get him back to Capitol Knot, and fast, he wasn’t going to make it.

And later I’d think more about how sure I was that Cliff had intervened, had led me there. But at the moment all I could think of was “Hold on, little guy. Just hold on a little longer.”

////////////////////////////////////////

The little dude was in the hospital for almost a month. He had broken ribs, a broken leg, and pneumonia from choking on his own puke. Concussion. And everyone just kept saying the same thing, shocked to shit about how he’d stayed alive. There was even talk that he might be a repatriate but I knew that he wasn’t. Maybe it was his own grit. Maybe something my Dad had managed to do before I arrived on the scene. Who knows? I sure as fuck don’t know anything.

He was gorgeous once they got him cleaned up. Light brown skin. Loose brown curly hair, a big messy mop of it. Huge dark brown eyes that watched everything around him. And even though he was in pain, once he was fed and bandaged up, he was a happy kid. He giggled a lot and he loved to be held and all the nurses and doctors in the clinic were gaga over him.

Deadman was just as smitten as everyone else. So was Lou for that matter. She was always asking us to take her down to see the “pretty baby”. And he would light up at the sight of us. He was happy with everyone, but it was like he knew there was something special about our family.

He was different than Lou had been. A helluva lot bigger than she’d been at that age, but this wasn’t a Bridge Baby. Mentally he was just a baby. So in a weird way it made him seem smaller than she had been. At six months Lou had already been able to speak a little bit (the desire was there: learning the tongue movements and stuff was what she had to master) and she could use her own type of sign language to communicate what she couldn’t say. So we never had to really guess what she wanted or needed because she definitely could tell us. It took a while to learn the difference in the little boy’s cries to figure out how to help.

And I wanted to help. I wanted to keep those giggles coming because man, they were sweet. I’d fallen hard and I’d fallen fast. I already had the most bad-ass daughter ever.

Now I was gonna have a son.

I was holding him in the crook of my arm, and he was sucking on his bottle and lying all snuggled up against me. He had a room to himself at the clinic and I was in this big padded chair and Deadman was in one next to me, and he was running his hands through the kid’s curls. “They say he can go home next week.” Deadman’s voice was soft. “The question they had is, where is home for him now?”

I looked down into the kid’s eyes. “Finder’s Keepers.”

Deadman chuckled. “So we are on the same page, then? From the story you told me, I can only assume your father wanted us to have him. Lou will be very pleased. Have you considered a name?”

“Well, figure his folks gave him one, but not like he can tell us what it was. He’s a fighter. Even when things where all shot to shit, he never gave up. I wanna name him after my Dad. But call him Ford instead of Clifford. This way he gets to be his own man too. And it’s a cooler nickname.”

“Might I suggest Milagro for a middle name?”

“Miracle? It’s definitely a miracle he’s here. Clifford Milagro Unger. You hear that, Ford? That’s a lot of name for a small-fry. You’re going to need to get a lot bigger.” Around his bottle, he grinned at me and waved his hands in the air. He had long, skinny fingers and long skinny toes. I thought he was probably going to grow up into a tall, skinny man someday. But he would grow up. And he was going to grow up with us because no fucking way was I planning on giving him to someone else.

One final gift from my father, and a namesake to honor him. It felt right. Like a final piece slipping into place.

Ford being alive was definitely a miracle, but there were only so many miracles doctors were able to work. His leg was messed up badly, and had started to heal before I found him, so they had to rebreak it. It was always going to be a little lopsided and Ford would probably always walk with a bit of a limp. Didn’t slow him down much. 

We took him home and fixed up a nursery for him in my old bedroom. Lou showered him with toys and helped us pick out new ones. Everyone we came across, she kept telling “I have a brother now!” as if it was some big personal accomplishment she’d done all on her own. I figured once he got big enough to annoy her, the honeymoon would end and it would be more of an eyeroll with “I have a….ughhh…brother.”

By a year old, Ford was up and toddling around but he hadn’t spoken yet. That worried me but Deadman just shrugged it off. “He’s extremely bright, as you know. He’ll speak when he’s ready.”

Deadman wasn’t kidding that Ford was bright. Or else really destructive. Because he was obsessed with taking everything apart to examine it, trying to figure out how it worked. Give him a sandwich and he’d dissect it in minutes. Since Louise had her heart set on taking over the whole damn country, Deadman was looking forward to getting the junior scientist of his dreams.

“And what about me?” I demanded. “Who am I gonna teach to be a Porter?”

Lou was sitting in her play area with Ford, showing him how to drop shapes in the right holes. She took my question seriously. “A monkey.” She finally replied.

“A monkey. Little girl, are you saying a monkey could do my job?”

“A smart monkey.” She assured me.

Then the peanut gallery had to chime in. The kids had this toy stuffed monkey we called Chip. Next thing I know Ford is toddling over to me and holding out Chip politely. Meanwhile Deadman is on the couch cracking up.

“Ya’ll are a couple of smart-asses.” I accepted Chip and Ford grinned at me. “Picking on Daddy like that.” I picked our boy up and sat him on my lap. “Oh well. Ford, if you’re half the scientist your Dapa is, I’ll be proud as hell. How’d I get so lucky? Best damn kids in the world.”

“Fuck yeah!” Ford agreed with me, and I cringed right before I heard my better half yell out “SAM!”

Well, he was talking…


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deadman is a good husband. Lou gives her parents a legitimate scare. Deadman knows Fragile has a secret. Sam really likes sleepy morning sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the nice comments! I really appreciate it. I love these guys and their little family.

**Chapter 5**

Deadman’s POV:

There can be no life without tragedy. It is a cruel truth, but one many of us learn early and sometimes the difficult way. There will be overwhelming joys, but there will also be losses and heartbreaks and perhaps we need those to truly appreciate the gift we are given.

We had no way of knowing the names of Ford’s biological family. If they were in truth Mules, or simply in a stolen Mule truck, or Mules attempting to flee for a better life. Sam was determined, however, not to simply leave them for the elements. Their remains were taken to the incinerator (still used unless a family wished for a private burial) and what little personal property they had retrieved and saved aside for Ford. His father had on him a very old watch, the kind with a face instead of digital numbers. His mother wore a simple woven bracelet. His sister a plastic butterfly hair clip. We were also able to alter photos of the bodies to remove the corruption of death, to show them as they would have looked before the accident. It wasn’t much, but it was all we could give him.

Life gives and life takes. It gave us a son that year. It took from us a dear friend in the form of Heartman. One day he went to his Beach and he did not return. I don’t know if finally the strain on his heart was simply too much, or at last he found his family and chose to remain with them. I hope that it is the latter.

I believe now, firmly, that I will have an afterlife as well, if not a Beach. A Beach, after all, is simply a way-point or a holding area. I must believe this because the idea of being separated from my loved ones for eternity makes me sick in the very pit of my stomach. I do not know precisely where we will all eventually end up (even Sam, repatriates do not live forever) but I know that we must be together. I spent so many years alone: I cannot go back to that.

Sam still did not care overly for the touch of strangers or having people in his personal space. Yet the touch he did allow, he craved. It was as if he’d been starving for years and was trying desperately to make up for the lack. If he was upset or nervous, a simple hand on his shoulder could slow his breathing back down to normal and recenter him.

He liked to sleep in my arms, as close to me as he could get. “My big ol’ teddy bear” he would sometimes say. And he liked to listen to my heartbeat as he drifted off, and I’d never in my life felt more like a man, a real man, than in those moments. My love trusted me to shelter him from any threats real or existent only in his mind.

In the mornings he preferred to be taken, when he was still a little sleepy, when little was required of him but to simply relax and accept. Not every day, of course. But on the mornings we were both awake and I could feel him melt into my arms, and he would look at me as if I had all the answers to the universe. And afterward when he would bury his head in the crook of my neck and whisper. “Love you so much.” I’d never imagined such joy. After all these years, I was no longer alone.

With children, being alone usually isn’t a problem. You can be peacefully answering the call of nature while reading an old novel, when a little one will stroll in without the slightest bit of discomfort and ask you if Bridges can grow a purple giraffe because they’d really like to see a purple giraffe. Oh, and they’ve drawn one as an example and you need to look at it immediately,

It also means that sometimes you will wake up to tiny feet in the middle of your back or on your face, or someone drooling on you, or singing in their sleep. It also means waking up to sleepy eyes and wet kisses on your cheek and “Hi Dapa. Can I have waffles for breakfast?”

And sometimes, it comes with bone-deep fear that never really goes away. Especially when your child is unlike other children in many ways.

Ford was, thankfully, an ordinary child. Well, he was extraordinary to us, of course. But other than his impressive survival skills as an infant, there was really nothing ‘odd’ about him to set him apart from other boys. He was a kind boy, a funny boy, and a brilliant one. But he had no DOOMs. He’d never lived in a pod. He’d been created the old-fashioned way and born to a living mother and father. In truth I envied him in that: I think we all did.

Louise…she was far more unique than we first ever suspected.

We knew she had DOOMs, and that her level was high. We weren’t sure of the exact number, but she definitely had it, which is what had made her so compatible with Sam in the first place. It wasn’t something she liked to talk about, however. It did not seem to upset her, but it felt more like something she wished to keep for herself. Perhaps because as a BB her gifts were exploited for the use of others. If she had nighmares, she didn’t relay them to us. Sam did not ask if she could see Cliff with us at times. He believed she could, and I think he was half-afraid of losing that if she said no. I too took some comfort in the thought that our small family had a guardian angel looking over us. (I like to believe that he liked me and approved of me as a son-in-law.)

I’d hoped to delve a little deeper when she was older, to give her a sense of what she could do and how to control it, but like many children Lou took the decision to wait out of our hands. This happened shortly after her fifth birthday, when we woke up one Saturday morning and found her bed slept-in but empty, and our daughter nowhere to be seen.

We tried not to panic at first. Lou marched to her own drummer, and it wasn’t outside the realm of the possible that she’d woken up early and decided to go out exploring on her own. And while there was plenty of mischief to be had inside of the city shields, she would not have been permitted to leave on her own. Until they were of legal age, children could only leave Capitol Knot under the care of a registered adult guardian. The world was still a dangerous place, and would remain so as long as there were human beings to populate it. Lou wore her own little cuff with pride: even if she could have removed it, she would not have done so.

So when we tried to track her location, and it came back that she was nowhere within Capitol Knot? Then Sam and I gave ourselves permission to, as Sam so delicately put it, freak the fuck out. Frantic calls to her cuff were not answered, and within minutes we had most of the security team mobilized and attempting to locate our child. Children were still somewhat rare in the Knots, and as such they were valued and loved simply for existing. But Lou was old enough that she’d become cherished for herself as well. She was outgoing and bold, offering her friendship to anyone, and right now that scared me more than anything else. Who had taken advantage of that trusting nature? Who had our daughter? And could we even survive the pain of losing her?

A friend of ours took Ford to look after, and all Sam and I could do besides cling to each other tightly was make frantic circuits around the city calling Lou’s name and hoping against hope that she would answer.

Then John got the call. “She’s alright! They’ve found her.” He looked as though today had aged him as much as it had us. “She just showed up at Port Knot. They’re going to take care of her until we can get there.”

“How the everloving fuck did she get to Port Knot?” Sam demanded. “Who had her?”

“She was alone when she arrived. We’ll get answers, don’t worry.” We were already heading for a truck. “Whomever did this won’t get away with it.”

It did not prove to be quite so simple.

A frantic truck-ride later, we arrived at the city, and there she was just inside the gates. She was still wearing her light blue nightgown with the fuzzy bunny on the front, and it was streaked with dirt. She was sitting calmly on a stool, dangling her feet, and casually talking to several guards about an old TV show she’d recently become enamored with. Her hair looked like she’d combed it with an egg-beater. When she saw us, she gave us a happy wave and jumped off the chair, running over and wrapping her arms around my leg.

Sam picked her up and held her close for a moment, and I could see him struggling not to cry. I was making no effort to restrain myself. “Oh baby. You’re okay. You’re okay. We’re here. We were so worried, little girl. I was so afraid we’d lost you.” He used his free arm to pull me close as well, and I was reminded of that hug inside my apartment five years earlier when Sam had returned with our little one alive and well in his arms.

“How did you get here, Lou?” I finally was able to ask. “Who brought you here?”

She looked confused and shook her head, messing up her hair even more. “No one brought me, Dapa. I was asleep and I was dreaming about the lake. I wanted to see it again. Then I just kind of woke up next to it, and I knew I wasn’t dreaming any more. I got hungry then and I knew I could follow the lake to Port Knot and I did and then they called you. Can we go home now?”

“Son of a…” Sam sat down hard on the ground in front of Lou, still holding her, and ran his hand over her cheek. “You had to have been terrified, baby. Why didn’t you answer your cuff?”

Lou held up her wrist and the cuff dangled dark.

“I don’t think I liked whatever I did. It won’t work now. I tried.” She paused and gave us a worried look. “Am…am I in trouble?” Somehow in that moment she looked smaller to me than she had as a BB. Small and helpless and vulnerable and I was terrified. How could we protect her from something like _this_?

All we could do was hold her tightly again and assure her that no, of course not, and that whatever was going on we’d figure it out. And for what came next, we owe very much to Fragile.

She and I…it was a rather complicated thing, you see. We were friends, of course. We’d relied on each other in the past and worked well together when need arose. There was only one issue between us, never addressed in words but nevertheless there. And it was not one easily resolved.

Fragile, you see, was in love with my husband.

She was good at hiding it. She was very much like Sam in many ways, and kept her heart to herself. Yet, I saw it in her eyes when she watched him. And sometimes when she thought I did not notice, I could see her looking at me in sadness and bewilderment. Wondering how I’d won his heart instead. It did offend me a little at first, her assumption that Sam could, well, do better in so many words. But it changed to sympathy after a while, and I would not insult her by confronting the issue. Nor was I willing to step aside. I would fight for my family, but I preferred it not come to that. On Sam’s part I wasn’t concerned: he’d never shown any signs of interest in anyone else. Love is not always logical.

Still, she came when we asked her to come, and she spent time with Lou, talking to her and asking her the right kind of questions, and Fragile eventually came to the same conclusion that we ourselves had come to: our daughter’s DOOMs level was high enough that she had, unassisted, made her first Jump.

Let me say now that Sam and I did not want our daughter Jumping, but Fragile pointed out to us that if she was doing it without being aware, then learning to control it was paramount. We did, after all, want her to be able to come back from wherever she had ended up. And we certainly didn’t want her trapped on a Beach somewhere.

It helped that Lou adored Fragile and wanted to please her teacher, and it did not take long for the child to get some control over her abilities. We of course set strict rules for usage of such: she was only allowed to use her Jumping ability to bring herself home if she traveled in her sleep, or if she was in immediate danger. Jumping was not to be used because you were outside and didn’t feel like taking the lift back down to our apartment. And it was not to be used to impress her friends or her younger brother.

Sam and I ruefully admitted to ourselves that such rules would be far more difficult to enforce when she was older and had that sense of invincibility that the young inadvertently develop. “First time I find out she’s Jumping out to meet some boy behind the medical center…” Sam muttered. “Girl is going to turn me completely grey before she’s grown.”

The children were both asleep in their rooms and we hoped they’d both stay there. We were in our own bed, several weeks after Lou’s first Jump, and we were in that moment of idle talk before dozing off. He felt good against me as usual: all lean, wiry muscle, damp with sweat, and I could feel the twitches in his upper arms and legs.

“You’d look good grey.” I tried to reassure him. “Don’t fight it on my account, please.”

“I was right, by the way.” He whispered into my chest. “Back then. I said I couldn’t do it alone. I was right. Just glad I didn’t have to try.”

“Sleep, _querido_. You’re not alone. You never, ever have to be alone again.”

And neither did I.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lou's POV. If Lou has secrets from her parents, it's really for their own good, right? But some secrets end up being a lot bigger than others. Lou is also a smart-ass, but she loves her Dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this took a different turn than I was expecting, but we're going down this rabbit-hole. Because I have a soft-spot for Higgs, that's why. This is not ever going to be a Higgs/Sam fic because I will go down with my Deadman/Sam ship. But he's definitely about to join the party in a different way. Thank you again for the comments and the kudos. It makes me feel warm and gooey to know someone is actually reading this drivel!

****

**Chapter 6**

Lou’s POV:

There are some things you can’t tell anyone, not even the people you love the most.

Nothing about my history was ever kept from me. Dad said he grew up living a lie, and he would “be damned” if his kids were raised the same. And it would have been pretty hard for him and Dapa to keep it all from me anyway, because I remembered.

Not everything. Just…flashes here and there. All tinted in yellow and behind the glass of the pod. Memories of being afraid, so very afraid, and not really understanding why. Memories of being happy, of hot water under the pod and Dad singing to me. Sometimes it’s more emotion than actual memory, but I know that even before I was ‘born’, I loved him, and I loved Dapa, and that I hated the glass that kept me from reaching out to touch them.

No one thinks of that, I guess. That the BBs were touch-starved. Maybe a child who grows to term in a womb wouldn’t be, but we…we could see it. Everything. This whole amazing world just a few centimeters away and we couldn’t have it. Sometimes I wonder if that’s the reason so many of us expired. We just gave up hope.

But I’d lived, and been adopted by the people I loved the most, and kept safe in our underground apartment. My parents had even managed to give me a younger brother that, most of the time, I got along okay with. I played soccer and took swimming lessons and life was sanitized and predictable.

And sometimes…sometimes I hated that.

Not my parents. Never them. And I understood that it was their job to keep me safe. At least a part of me understood that. My brain understood it.

My heart was a different story.

Maybe it was because of my Pod days, traveling across the country with Dad, always on the move. Always something new to see. The rush I still remembered from ziplining over the mountains, my father whooping in sheer joy. America was coming back to life again, being rebuilt from the ground up, and I was missing it. I was stuck in Capitol Knot, the only rebirth I was allowed to witness were the day trips I made with Dad to the places I was mind-numbingly familiar with.

It was different with Ford. In my brother’s mind, everything anyone could possibly need was right here at home. What reason was there to look elsewhere? He was a lot like Dapa in that. Dapa only left the city limits when he didn’t have a choice in the matter. Like when he had to go to Port Knot to pick up his kid, who had managed to accidentally Jump herself miles away.

I was too young at the time to realize just what this ability would mean to me, that it was a gift I hadn’t even known I was praying for. That it would give me a secret outlet for that restlessness I could never quite shake. I was twelve when I got up the nerve to really defy them and Jump behind their backs.

I had to be careful, of course. My parents weren’t idiots. But nor where they intrusive and they trusted me. I am ashamed to say I took full advantage of their trust and misused it. I would retreat to my room, lock the door, and then the world behind Capitol Knot was mine to discover.

Even away from the city I had to be careful. People knew my Dad, knew my family, and all I needed was for one of them spot me and run tattling. So I tried to avoid the big cities and stick with the more remote areas. This suited me just fine because those were the areas with the best zipline networks. The best hills to take a floating carrier down at break-neck speeds. The places where I could go as fast as I could and feel like I was flying, unrestrained by gravity or the well-meaning rules of my parents. It was where I felt the most alive.

This brought up another issue that was a little tricky for me to navigate. Those areas were cold, with snow up to my kneecaps in some places. So in order to be able to spend any great length of time there, I needed warm clothing and preferably a portable heater. That may not sound overly difficult, but when you live in a place with climate control, people are going to question why you suddenly need blizzard gear.

Luckily, I was pretty good at making friends. One in particular who was able to solve my problem. He was pretty okay with helping out, considering that he owed my family his life. And his name.

“Here. This should be everything you need.” Sam pushed the box over to me. He was wrapped up in his own coat, thinner than I’d have wanted but he was used to the mountain air. “Hat, gloves, decent coat, boots, and the heater. We always have extras in storage. If your folks find any of this, you did not get it from me, Lou!”

“No worries. You’re a pal, Sam.”

He kind of blushed at that and it was cute on him. He was a little older than me, a bit on the chubby side, with straw-blond hair that was too messy to stay under his snow-cap. I knew he’d had to be cautious sneaking out with the gear, because he had a pair of younger sisters who stuck their noses into everything.

“Here’s the stuff you wanted.” I pushed my own box over. “Candy bars, those old movies, strawberries, and Dapa’s old electron microscope. He’ll never miss it.” I was already shrugging on the heavier outer clothing, leaning against a tree for support.

“Awesome! I’ve been dying to get my hands on one of these! Thanks, Lou! You…ah…you want to ride the zips with me?”

“You know I do.”

/////////////////////////////////////////

The mountains were not the only place I traveled in my Jumps. It was half of my secret, and I knew Dad and Dapa would be plenty angry if they knew what I was doing. But the other half was far more important to hide, because they won’t just be angry, they would be afraid. I could handle them being furious with me, but I hated the thought of terrifying them. They didn’t deserve that. So in the rational of children since time began, I convinced myself that it was for their own good that they never find out.

They didn’t know that some nights, after everyone else was asleep, I would lay down and close my eyes and I would free my Ka and I would roam the Beaches.

It was different than Jumping to go play on the ziplines. For one thing, my Ha, my body, stayed behind in my bed. So if Dapa or Dad happened to peek in at me, they’d see what they expected to see. I could have taken my body along for the ride. I passed through the Beaches when I Jumped, but at those times I moved so quickly that I barely noticed where I was. I wasn’t there physically long enough to ever be in any real danger. If I wanted to do some hard-core exploring, the flesh stayed behind.

The year I was thirteen…that was the year I made another friend. 

I didn’t go searching for him, you understand. But he was seared into my memories from my earliest days. When I didn’t truly understand what he was doing, only that it had the potential to hurt my father. Memories of being afraid, yes, but more angry than afraid. When I had nightmares, I saw him sometimes, but as I grew older, the fear turned to a kind of pity, and I found myself asking Dad about him once.

We were sitting outside together, with our backs against a metal wall, and the sun was setting in the distance. I remember that Dad smelled a little like beer since he had one in his hand, and I could see new silver streaks in his hair. There were more lines around his eyes and I didn’t want to think about him getting older. That someday he and Dapa would be gone from this world and only Ford and I would be left.

“Can I try a sip?” I asked him, and he narrowed his eyes at me. “Come on, Dad. Just one sip? Please?”

“One sip. A small one!” He sighed and handed over the can. “No wonder you’re spoiled rotten, little girl.”

I took a sip and tried to decide whether or not I liked it. I thought maybe I needed another sample but he snatched the can back.

“I’m not little, Dad. I’m a teenager now.” I reminded him, and he grunted. “Listen, little girl. I took you out of that Pod and I’ll stuff you right back in if you try me.” He looked me over and I noticed he suddenly looked a little sad. “You should wear the pigtails again. I liked those.” He reached over and tugged on the back of my hair, which I now wore loose and down to my shoulders.

“Guess we’re both getting old.” I reached for the beer again and he held it back, and then laughed. “Guess we are, Lou. It’s all going by too fast. Pretty soon you’ll be all grown up and maybe with kids of your own and you’ll be able to drink as much beer as you want. I won’t be able to keep you safe much longer.”

I leaned against him, suddenly feeling small (and somewhat guilty about my secret Jumping) and he put his arm around me. “I used to keep you safe, Dad. Remember?”

“Yeah. Yeah, little girl. I remember.” He kissed the top of my head. “You were amazing. Still are. Nothing I did I could have done without you.”

“I stopped the bullets.” I closed my eyes, trying to remember. “When Higgs tried to shoot you. I think…one hit my Pod, right?”

“Yeah. You used the Oradek to stop the bullets and when I finally had a chance to beat down that son-of-a-bitch I gave him a few extra kicks in the head for aiming at you. Crazy bastard.”

“Was he?” I was curious. “Was he really bad or just…sick in the head?”

Dad didn’t answer for a moment. “I think he was sick in the head. Amelie took advantage of that, but he was messed up before he got to her. I found these journals, see….from when he was just a kid. He lived in a bunker with his uncle, and I guess the uncle was a real prick. Hurt him bad. Real bad, little girl. And one day Higgs fought back and killed him. And it did something to his mind, something he never really got over. Did you know the asshole used a fake name to make me bring him pizzas? Here I am, trying to save the fucking world, from _him_ , and he thinks it’s funny to make me stop and bring him dinner!”

I couldn’t help it. I giggled. “That is pretty funny, Dad. Major arch-villain move there.”

“He made me bring him champagne once. Oh, and I had to carry it by fucking hand because it was so delicate. I should have pissed on his pizza.” He gulped more beer down.

“Is he gone now? Really gone?”

“Fragile gave him a gun. We heard a shot. If he shot himself or shot at her, I dunno. I never tried to find out. He killed so many people, Lou. It’s cause of him that your Aunt Lockne’s sister and her baby died. I don’t think you can come back from something like that.”

“But if he was sick in the head…maybe it wasn’t his fault?”

“Lou, don’t go making him out to be some tragic lost soul, you hear me? He was the closest thing this world’s seen to the devil in a long time. I know you want to believe there’s good in everyone, and I love that about you. But don’t try to shine up turds. It don’t work right.”

He stretched his legs out in front of him and I heard his joints crack. “Come on. All this talk’s made me want pizza.” Dapa had to work late, and Ford was staying over at his friend Kirk’s, so it was just the two of us tonight. “Junkyard style?” I asked hopefully and he gave me another quick hug. “Junkyard style. As many different things as they can pile on that bad-boy. And you don’t tell your Dapa I let you try that beer, got it?”

“Got it. And can you tell me more about what it was like then? Back when I was canned for freshness?”

“Canned for…” He sputtered and I suddenly wrapped my arms around him as tightly as I could. “I glad I ended up with you, Dad, and not some old guy that smells like booze. I love you.”

“You better. Because you’re stuck with me, little girl. You and me, we’re still partners. No matter how big you get, that’ll never change. And I love you to the end of the world and back.”

Later, we ate pizza and watched videos until Dapa came home, and I went to bed. I hadn’t intended to do any Jumping that night, but the conversation with Dad was on my mind as I fell asleep. Without meaning to do so, I jumped.

And things were never quite the same afterward.


End file.
